


That's Love

by Goodknight (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Goodknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>john explaining his love for dave</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's Love

Slick, sticky, red-rose bloody wound and gentle beat of a bare bones heart in an open chest, that’s love. Love’s the seep and spill and pool of spilt blood love’s animalistic, carnivorous; it’s feeling, exploring, spelunking wet insides and gripping secrets against the one-of-a kind swirl of gently prodding fingertips,  _learning_ , it’s the criss cross of viscera, it’s more than skin deep. Oh, John’s only seen love walk once, but he knows it like he knows the map of his own skin, back roads of lifted veins and smooth edges of his cliff face fingernails.   
  
He’s counted the hairs on Dave’s head one two three until he’s fallen asleep, head an inch from the blowing and puffing of Dave’s breath on the pillow. He’s heard the nuts and bolts crack of Dave’s back when he stands, he’s touched the joint of his hinged elbow and felt it bend.  
  
John’s never read a romance novel, but he knows love, and he knows how love winds itself like a needle like a knife into the holes and the fissures of a young boy’s mind. He’s seen love walk, springy knees and wide smile, dotted freckle cheeks, blinding messiah white across the chest and deep cherry red fabric down the arms, and he knows love, but he believes there’s always more to learn. There’s always something else lurking, waiting to be pried open with a crow bar.  
  
John hears Dave’s ribs snap, crackle, and pop like morning cereal.   
  
He’s watched Dave from across rooms and turned his head when they pass in hallways, he’s put his hand on Dave’s sinewy shoulder when they laugh, imagined how supple and giving the skin of a stretched neck is  _oh_  John knows the feeling of love, the passion coursing rushing river swift, he’s imagined Dave’s soft lips, giving under his teeth and splitting like firewood. Fire in his veins, open chest, heart beating.   
  
John presses his fingers, like a craftsman, against Dave’s gentle, sloped, pretty face. He leans and  _oh_  he feels love, feels it race up his throat like acid rain, pour its bubbly happy good feeling into his mouth and he puts his tongue on Dave’s eyelid, licks quick and sharp and short against the feeble butterfly membrane skin, breathes deep, smells wet meat and floating drifting terror like city smog.   
  
Oh, Dave, he doesn’t understand love, not really. He feels light caresses and light breathy sentiment and pink pink pink easy careful holding hands going on dates. No, no, Dave doesn’t know how love feels doesn’t know how it  _pulses_  when it’s fighting like a caged animal and striving, muscles straining.   
  
John watches the emotions flit against his friends face while he burns holes in his skin with the love that drips from his lips, anguish pain sadness anguish feverish  _all-consuming hurt_. He opens the hole in Dave’s chest, so the exotic birds of his passion of his feeling can fly free, and he’s hit with a nice metallic smell, the keys he used to put in his mouth when he was a child.   
  
He breathes out a wind for Dave’s birds, peeling at the edges of the cavity with his swirly fingertips, and looks at the beating of Dave’s heart, and his heart’s beating too, a rhythm, a bass line in their symphony, and that’s love. That’s intrinsic. That’s one-of-a kind, tight rope walker flame thrower circus comes to town rarity and that’s the deep melodic trill of Dave,  _oh_ , Dave, that’s Dave all over.   
  
Blood like a bubbling brook, seeping down his arms like hot cherry syrup sleeves, slits across the tight arm muscle and cuts down the chin, down the chest, across the thighs, all over, so Dave’s whole and symmetrical and so so beautiful.   
  
John saw love walk once, and he loved it so that he let it fly and soar and he let it go. 


End file.
